


the good thing that hurts

by gim



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Ferdibert Week 2019, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Mentions of Blood, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Unrequited Love, why am I doing this to myself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-13 09:49:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21492340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gim/pseuds/gim
Summary: Hubert gets struck by a mysterious disease and now must ask himself: What would he have to sacrifice to be rid of the illness? And is he really ready for such sacrifice?[Prompt for Day 1 of Ferdibert Week 2019 - Hanahaki]
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 38
Kudos: 154
Collections: Ferdibert Ship Week 2019





	the good thing that hurts

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, [Mika](https://twitter.com/MikaHaruka_FE3H) for the help with this fic <3

Hubert von Vestra didn’t have time to fall ill.

Even after their Professor’s inexplicable return from the dead, which considerably lessened his workload, it wasn’t like he could relax and idle around. There were still inventory checks he had to do, reports he had to read, espionage missions he had to oversee… And that was on top of his usual training and skirmishes the Black Eagle Strike Force routinely found themselves in. So really, getting sick was the last thing he needed right now.

Unfortunately, his body failed to grasp that concept, as Hubert had most likely caught some sort of cold. It manifested through an uncomfortable squeeze of his lungs, usually followed by a cough.

Pah. As if sudden coughing fits were enough to stop him from tending to his liege and her mission. War wasn’t going to wait until he felt better - no, he just needed to push through it. If it was like any other common cold, it would be gone and forgotten in no time, is what he told himself.

He kept telling himself that for two weeks now.

-

Lady Edelgard was, unsurprisingly, first to notice his condition. She didn’t comment on it, but her gaze lingered on him whenever Hubert tried to suppress another cough. Her tired eyes were filled with worry whenever he did that - he internally cursed his blasted weak body every time he saw that look on her face. She was far too important to be concerned with his health.

“Hubert.”

He just finished summarising his spies’ reports about the enemy's movements to her and was about to excuse himself to double-check on the status of the battalions, when Her Majesty’s voice called to him.

“Is there anything else you require of me, My Lady?”

She sighed. “I  _ ask _ of you to not overwork yourself. I’m grateful for everything you do, but you simply cannot do it at the expense of your own well-being. Please, get some rest Hubert.”

And there it was again. That sorrowful look. Hubert hated himself for being the source of His Emperor’s grief.

But he couldn’t just  _ rest _ . Too much depended on him. Too many  _ people _ depended on him.

Feeling another cough rising in his throat, he bowed stiffly before excusing himself and leaving her office.

As much as he hated to admit it, something needed to be done.

-

Regrettably, a visit to the infirmary wasn’t much of a help. A tonic Mauela prepared to help with his cold didn’t seem to work, as Hubert’s coughing was getting worse by the day. 

“A lot of diseases might cause coughing, dear.” Manuela looked him over again. “Are there any other symptoms? When did it start?”

Hubert tried to recall anything else that might be of use to diagnose (and hopefully cure) what was ailing him. Besides coughing, recently he found himself short of breath more often than in the past. It felt as if… something was clinging to his lungs, preventing breathing.

Manuela gave him a perplexed look when he described it, then slowly shook her head.

“I’m afraid it doesn’t sound like anything I can help with. But do seek me out if it gets worse, okay? At least I can alleviate the pain a bit.”

Hubert left the room feeling almost defeated - but mostly frustrated. What in the blazes was that illness? Where did it come from? Could he even pinpoint the cause of it?

His footsteps slowly died down when the realization hit him - oh, he remembered very clearly when it all started.

-

_ Ferdinand stifled another yawn - or at least he tried to, but his success was dubious at best. He rubbed his eyes and slapped his cheeks lightly for good measure. _

_ “If that keeps up, I might have to start drinking coffee as well.” _

_ “Heavens forbid, you might become even more hyperactive than Caspar.” _

_ His only answer was a soft chuckle as Ferdinand leaned over the maps again. They’d spent the last few hours poring over them, trying to come up with an alternative route for transporting supplies, as their previous route had been discovered by Church soldiers. Trying to find a compromise between “safe” and “short” was proving to be a challenge. Even though Lady Edelgard told them that they could come up with something in the morning after getting some sleep, they both disagreed (Ferdinand directly to her face, Hubert in thought only). Too much depended on it, so they had to find a solution, even if it took them the whole night. It was shaping up to be that way, dawn coming closer with each passing moment. _

_ Somewhere along the way, Ferdinand shucked off his jacket and put his hair in a messy bun at the nape of his neck. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows and his bangs were mussed from constantly having a hand run through them. Even his self-imposed need to always look prim and proper couldn’t win in the face of pulling an all-nighter. Hubert, used to such things, was faring much better, and only discarded his cape on a nearby chair (but only after folding it properly to avoid future creases, of course). _

_ “If it’s taking such a toll on you, perhaps you should go get a few hours of your precious beauty sleep. I can finish it by myself.” _

_ “Nonsense. I do not need ‘beauty sleep’. Now hand me that report your… people prepared regarding western border.” Ferdinand didn’t even look up as he extended a hand towards Hubert. _

_ Just months ago, such behaviour between them was improbable. Yet here they were, unlikely allies, friends even, their bond forged by fire of war and shared loyalty to their Emperor. _

_ Hubert chuckled as he passed him a stack of parchment. “Complementing your relentlessness was a mistake - Her Majesty will have my head if some encouraging words from me will put one of her generals in an early grave.” _

_ “Even if you took them back, I would not step down from my duty.” Ferdinand skimmed through the report in his hands. Once he found the passage he needed, he took a red pin and placed it on the map. “And we both know Edelgard wouldn’t do that - you are invaluable to the army.” _

_ The unspoken ‘Unlike me’ hung between them, heavy and awkward. Hubert cleared his throat, but didn’t say anything. They worked in silence for a while after that.  _

_ After cross-referencing all the reports from the last month, as well as putting into account the terrain and upcoming weather patterns, finally they managed to draft the most efficient route. They just needed to present it to Edelgard for her approval in the morning. _

_ “Ferdinand.” Hubert surprised even himself when he spoke as the cavalier was gathering his things and heading out.  _

_ The man turned to him with an expectant look. Hubert cleared his throat again. "You are also... important to us.” _

_ Ferdinand watched him silently for a moment, probably waiting for Hubert to elaborate, but when nothing else came, he let out a non-committal hum and run a hand through his bangs (tenth time in the last hour, Hubert’s mind provided for some reason). _

_ "Well… Thank you for saying that." _

_ "I'm not merely ‘saying that’ - I mean it. But don’t get the wrong idea. It's a simple, objective fact of the matter." _

_ Ferdinand’s unyielding confidence and battle prowess were absolutely crucial when it came to the army's morale. And although Hubert would rather die than admit it out loud, his strategic input was also proving to be useful. Not to mention his… general presence was irreplaceable in Black Eagle Strike Force. He was always ready to offer help, a kind word, or even just a smile… It wasn’t strictly necessary, but it did make it easier to strive towards another day. _

_ “Oh, good that you clarified that, Hubert - it almost sounded as if you liked me.” _

_ “Perish the thought.” They both chuckled. _

_ The first rays of sunlight shimmered through the window, setting Ferdinand’s hair in a golden halo of fire. He looked at Hubert again and smiled. Not his usual, boisterous and confident smile, but a soft one, fleeting like a flutter of a butterfly's wings. _

_ It took Hubert’s breath away. _

-

Hubert let out a groan as a memory resurfaced in the forefront of his mind, completely unprompted. With it, came another painful twist of his lungs and a cough rising in his chest. 

At first, he dismissed it as a simple coincidence. But thinking about it now, he was certain - the symptoms intensified whenever he was near Ferdinand. Even when he just thought about him... In passing, of course - it wasn’t like his head was constantly filled with auburn eyes and freckled skin… (at least, that’s what he told himself). Something like this couldn’t be some common illness - a curse sounded a lot more likely. 

Did Ferdinand hex him somehow? Doubtful - though the man was very skilled at handling almost any kind of weapon, his magical abilities were unremarkable at best. No, if someone truly cursed Hubert, they had to be more proficient in the dark arts than Ferdinand. But finding the culprit wasn’t a priority now - for now Hubert had to find out the exact nature of the curse, and how to lift it. Time was of the essence - revenge could wait.

It was well after midnight when Hubert stalked into the library, determined to find some answers. He already went through his own tomes, without much luck. If library turned out to be a disappointment as well, he hoped that at least a section of volumes confiscated by Seteth would prove useful.

He swiped every book that sounded promising and set them down on a table in the far corner of the library. Part of him demanded he made another cup of coffee, as it was shaping up to be a long night. It wouldn’t do his throat any good, but at this point, caffeine was as important to Hubert as breathing, if not more. He would be of no use to Her Majesty with shaking hands and unfocused mind.

After coming back from the kitchen carrying a coffee press with a freshly brewed blend, Hubert sat down to work.  _ Common Curses _ didn’t provide him with any new information, same for  _ Hexes Throughout History _ . He was halfway through the third volume of  _ Morfis Magic _ when his eyes drifted momentarily towards the small book stashed between other tomes he had yet to read. 

_ Magical Maladies _ , read the spine. Almost as if something urged him to do so, Hubert freed the book from where it was squashed between the much thicker volumes. Reading through the first few pages, it seemed to document peculiar diseases that had befallen mages who carelessly and constantly overextended their capabilities. Hubert clicked his tongue - as if the scars that appeared on his hands after overusing magic weren’t punishment enough. He hated to admit to such foolishness, but it couldn’t be helped - they were at war and he was ready to do anything in his power to see their foes fall. Until now, he thought that it would only result in the almost burned-like flesh of his hands and nearly lost sense of touch in his fingers. 

Skimming through the listed ailments, he could tell they varied in severeness - some of them subsided after a few weeks, others resulted in death. A few even could be cured, which was reassuring. He turned another page and instantly froze. He read the description on the page again. And again. His third reading was interrupted by a violent cough that rattled through his whole body. 

The name of the disease sounded foreign, but he couldn’t place the origin of it. After the list of symptoms - violent coughing, shortness of breath, lungs aching - the book went into detail on what this illness entailed - suppressed feelings manifested as seeds, plunged into the victim's lungs where they absorbed oxygen to grow. During the second stage, petals would begin to appear while coughing. When the third stage started, blood would show up alongside the petals. The fourth and final stage lasted only a few days - fully formed blooms would grow in the lungs, and as a result, the person would die.

Hubert stared at the page. More precisely, he stared at the paragraph regarding the nature of those “suppressed feelings”.

Suppressed  _ romantic _ feelings.

His mind flashed an image of sun-kissed skin and bright orange hair, which caused another coughing fit, far stronger than the last one. The force of it made Hubert practically curl up in half.

At the bottom of the page, the author wrote down how to be rid of the illness. The sentence was almost nonchalant: if the person confessed and their feelings were reciprocated, the seeds would disappear, curing the sickness.

Hubert pinched the bridge of his nose.

No.

Absolutely  _ not _ .

There were many reasons why he couldn’t talk to Ferdinand about…  _ this _ . They were at  _ war _ , for crying out loud. It was the least fitting time to consider love or courting and other such nonsense ( _ and yet here you are, pining like a fool _ , his mind provided). Not to mention that even if Ferdinand did...

…

Oh, who was he trying to fool.

There was no way that Ferdinand would ever feel the same way about him.

And his rejection would be, quite literally, a death sentence.

Hubert snapped the book shut with a snarl, then started shoving other tomes back onto the shelves with vengeance. Out of all the ways he could die,  _ this _ would be the most humiliating one.

He was about to put the offending book away, but paused. It was the only lead he had so far - it would be better to keep it close, in case it provided some sort of clue on how to get rid of his illness without having to… confront Ferdinand. Hubert tucked the small book into the pocket of his jacket and left the library.

Unfortunately, the book didn’t mention how fast the illness would advance. If he was lucky, it could be years before his lungs would burst into flowers. He’d been afflicted by this for two weeks now, and no petals showed up yet - he still had time.

And he was determined to make the best of it.

-

A month passed, and Hubert’s condition hadn’t worsened, thankfully. At this point, it was clear to Lady Edelgard that it wasn’t just a common cold. When she asked him about this, he simply answered that he was “looking into it”. She was still worried, but his words seemed to calm her, somewhat.

“I know you’ll figure it out.” She gave him a small smile that was probably meant to be reassuring - it just made him feel guilty that he couldn’t tell her the whole truth.

With Her Majesty’s cautious blessing, Hubert threw himself back into his work with even more determination than before. During war, the prospect of sudden death was always present, of course… But the situation he found himself in now made the prospect even more dire. So he redoubled his efforts, making sure others will be prepared if… when he…

No.

There was no point dwelling on that. Besides, he could still find the alternative cure, a more… feasible solution to this mess. There was still time. That was the thought he was clinging to as he spent another sleepless night in his office, partially due to work, but also because the coughing fits that he suppressed throughout the day came back to haunt him.

Avoiding Ferdinand was, unfortunately, out of the question. Too much of their work overlapped, so they were constantly seeing each other during meetings, trainings or while performing various tasks around the monastery. Ferdinand’s booming voice would follow Hubert everywhere, making his heart skip a beat and his lungs ache.

Sometimes Ferdinand would even invite himself into Hubert’s office, bringing coffee and some treats. And Hubert simply couldn’t turn him down. Even though it made his lungs ache. Even when his throat was raw from constant coughing. Even though he  _ knew _ he should keep his distance… He couldn’t. As much as it caused him pain, Ferdinand’s presence was a delight Hubert couldn’t help but indulge in. So instead, they would sit down by the side table in his office, almost instinctively slipping into easy, playful banter as they discussed the going-ons of the monastery. Talks that sometimes lasted long into the afternoon and Hubert should’ve probably chided himself for the wasted time… But he couldn’t even do that.

Under all the pain and aching, warmth spread through his body whenever Ferdinand was near him. No matter how foolish it was, Hubert wanted to keep that warmth, for as long as he could.

Even during battle, Ferdinand was somehow always close. His mount charged on the frontlines, yet the moment Hubert was in even the mildest of danger, Ferdinand was by his side, ready to plunge his lance into whatever was threatening the mage at the moment.

“Some things never change - you were never good at keeping your designated position on the battlefield.” Hubert did everything in his power to tear his eyes away from the amber locks flowing in the wind - he had little power left.

Ferdinand looked at him from atop his warhorse with a confident smirk. “Would it kill you to thank me just once?”

“Most likely.” Hubert allowed their eyes to meet momentarily, and he instantly knew that was a mistake.

Immediately, his lungs seized in pain so strong he staggered, his vision going dark for a moment. His knees hit the ground as he wheezed pathetically, gripping at his chest.

“Hubert!” Ferdinand let out a concerned cry. Hubert could hear his feet on the gravel as he dismounted. “What happened?”

“Nothing, just… give me a moment.” 

He tried to get up, but his legs wobbled under his weight. With another sharp “Hubert!” on his lips, Ferdinand was by his side, holding Hubert firmly in his arms.

At once, Hubert’s chest tightened - his lungs giving another painful squeeze, while his heart hammered wildly. He wanted to push away, to say that he was fine. He opened his mouth and immediately coughed violently.

“H-hold on! I’ll take you to Linhardt!” Ferdinand looked almost panicked.

Still holding Hubert tightly, he crossed the battlefield towards the bishop. “Linhardt! Hubert needs your assistance!”

“I don-” The rest of the sentence was lost in another coughing fit.

Linhardt raised an eyebrow. “You should see a doctor about that.”

Hubert glared at him, which would probably work better if he wasn’t bending in half, trying to catch a breath.

Linhardt dismissed Ferdinand with a wave. “Go stab some people if you must, I’ll look over him.”

Ferdinand gave Hubert another worried look, then slowly nodded and turned to leave.

Linhardt came closer, inspecting Hubert. “Was your intention infecting those bandits? I’m not even sure if my spells can help with a cold.”

“That’s not a-” Hubert put a hand to his mouth and let out an unpleasant, choking sound. Then, a strangled wheeze. Something was stuck in his throat but he couldn’t quite get it out.

Linhardt, sensing his struggle, slammed his hand into the upper side of Hubert’s back. Hubert gave a pained groan, but it did the trick - whatever was sticking to Hubert’s windpipe finally landed on his gloved hand, together with a copious amount of saliva.

Hubert tensed when he saw just what the object in his palm was.

A single flower petal.

“Huh.” Linhardt’s eyes widened ever so slightly - a clear sign that he was in deep shock. “Unless you’re on some flower-based diet, that shouldn’t be anywhere near your mouth.”

“Any other enlightening words?” Hubert nearly growled at him as he inspected the petal in his hand.  _ At least there’s no blood. _ He crushed it in his fist, determined to make it disappear.

“Plenty, actually. What…”

“Don’t. And don’t even think about telling anyone else about this.” He leveled Linhardt with the best glare he could muster, while the man just rolled his eyes in response.

“Fine, fine. Just don’t come running to me when you start spewing petals again. That seems like too much of a bother to help with.”

They both knew it was a lie. 

From that day on, Hubert stopped seeing Manuela about his problem, instead going to Linhardt whenever the coughing or breathlessness became too much. Each time Linhardt would mumble something under his breath, but his hands would light up with warm white magic all the same. It would only ease the pain, but it was better than nothing.

Linhardt was rather interested in Hubert’s condition and would always ask him if he could study him - Hubert always declined.

The fewer the people beside him that knew about this illness and its cause, the better. Even while hacking up flowers, Hubert still had some pride left.

-

Ferdinand invited him to tea and coffee again. Logically, he knew he shouldn’t go, that it would only make matters worse - and yet he agreed nonetheless.  _ Allow me this one selfish thing _ , he pleaded with his rational side as he watched Ferdinand prepare his coffee.

Hubert left the talking to Ferdinand, afraid that just opening his mouth would bring out an avalanche of petals. But Ferdinand didn’t seem to mind, effortlessly carrying the conversation for both of them. Hubert just nodded when expected, sometimes daring to let out a soft hum. 

Occasionally, Ferdinand would run a hand through his hair. The setting sun reflected on the flowing locks most brilliantly, bathing him in soft golden hues. Hubert would appreciate it more if his throat didn’t squeeze painfully everytime he dared to look directly at it.

“Hubert,” Ferdinand spoke softly, holding Hubert hostage with his shining eyes. “I have to confess, I keep thinking about what happened during the last battle… You run yourself ragged with work, and it takes a toll on your health.” His face twisted with concern. “You need to take care of yourself, my friend. If there is anything,  _ anything _ at all I can do to ease your burden, you just need to say a word.”

Hubert simply nodded in acknowledgement. Ferdinand’s gaze was still worried as he watched him, but finally he gave a small smile. 

_ That smile. _

How cruel. For a moment, it gave Hubert an agonizing sense of hope that maybe, just  _ maybe _ … But then he snapped himself out of such foolish thoughts. He really needed to stop deluding himself so.

Hubert smiled thinly as he sipped the coffee he couldn’t really taste, his taste buds overpowered by the bittersweetness of the flowers growing in his lungs.

-

The fact that Linhardt of all people learned about his problem was irritating, since he kept pestering Hubert about his “weird mouth-petals” as he put it. He could get insistent if he became interested in the subject. If only he applied himself so strongly to other tasks, they might have won the war by now.

For the first few days, the petals were scarce, only one or two at a time escaping his lungs. Within two weeks, after each throat-scratching fit, Hubert was left with a fistful of petals. With a snap of his fingers, he set them all ablaze everytime, leaving no evidence besides a faint smell of burnt flowers and ashes to be scattered to the winds.

Two months passed and he already was at the second stage of the illness - Hubert felt a twinge of panic settle in his gut. Until now, he silently hoped it would take  _ much _ longer, but the powers that be - gods, fate, or whatever else - were never kind to him.

He turned to  _ Magical Maladies _ again, turning to the page he could recite from memory by now. The sentence at the bottom of the page mocked him each time. But not all was lost.

There was something worth looking into on the other side of the page.

The other side of the page describing his ailment contained a sigil and a list of simple instructions. Hold the petal, draw the sigil, think of the person, and cast. 

Whatever that would accomplish, he wasn’t sure. The instructions could only be described as vague at best, and Hubert knew better than anyone that partaking in magic you didn’t quite understand was a sure recipe for disaster.

Seemed that another trip to the library was required - later.

With his time growing shorter and shorter, he worked relentlessly, ensuring everything in the army was in order. Everyone commented that he looked even more like a vampire than he was often joked to be, his skin paler than ever. He paid it little mind - as long as his job was done, nothing else mattered.

It was the dead of the night when he finally left his office. At least that way he wouldn’t run into anyone on his way to or from the library.

At least that’s what he thought.

As Hubert was approaching the library and he turned a corner, he bumped into Bernadetta, who was sneaking through the corridor for whatever reason. She jolted when she saw him, his ghastly face probably frightening her more than usual. Unfortunately, Hubert left her flower in his office - he didn’t expect to run into her at such an hour.

“H-Hubert! I swear, I wasn’t doing anything bad!”

“I’m not accusing you of anything. Go to bed, it’s quite late.”

“But what about y-”

“I still have something to do. Goodnight, Bernadetta.”

“Oh, right! Goodnight!” She seemed relieved to be excused from the conversation, at least.

Hubert passed Bernadetta without another word, but as luck would have it, his lungs decided it was a perfect moment to spew more petal-infused coughs. He braced himself against the wall with one hand, keeping the other to his mouth, hoping -  _ praying _ \- that no petals would spill onto the floor. At least he was facing away from Bernadetta, so she wouldn’t see them - small mercy.

“Hubert?! That sounds bad! Really,  _ really  _ bad! I should go get Manuela!!” Hubert heard her shriek behind him.

“No need to bother her. I’ll be fine.”

He flinched when she suddenly appeared by his arm, searching his face. “Are you sure?  _ Really _ sure?! Someone should take a look-”

“ _ Bernadetta. _ ”

She let out a small yelp. Hubert sighed. None of this was her fault and she didn’t deserve such treatment, but if he didn’t do something, she would start panicking and probably wake everyone up.

“I can take care of myself, so don’t concern yourself with it,  _ please _ . You should really go to bed.”

“I-if you say so…”

He hoped that would finally end the conversation, but the look on Bernadetta’s face made him doubt that.

“Um…” She hesitated, twisting her fingers. “What do you need the sunflowers for?”

Hubert tensed - the petals. He forgot about them for a moment and it was enough for Bernadetta to take notice. But something she said gave him even bigger pause. 

_ Sunflowers _ . Of all the blasted blooms in the world,  _ of course _ it had to be  _ fucking _ sunflowers.

Hubert would have laughed at the irony, if the possibility of coughing up his lungs in the process wasn’t painfully real.

Bernadetta risked another look at his face and immediately winced. “N-nevermind! You don’t have to tell me! It’s not my business anyway! I’m sorry! Goodnight!” In a flash, she was gone, rushing down the corridor.

Hubert watched her disappear, unsure of what to do. Bernadetta didn’t seem to make the connection between his coughing fit and petals in his hand - yet. She could be awfully perceptive at times, and Hubert wasn’t going to take any chances. He really had to talk to her about this and make sure she wouldn’t tell anyone else. Right now, it would just scare her more, so he decided to go find her in the morning.

He looked at his hand again, still clutching the accursed petals. It was hard to tell in the dim light, but he was almost positive there was no blood on them. Just like with all the petals from before, Hubert incinerated them within seconds. 

Resting his back against a wall, Hubert took a slow, shaky breath. He really should get going - researching the mysterious sigil could take hours, and it was already so late…

Hubert exhaled, his breath coming out pained and wheezed.

Only then did it occur to him just how  _ tired _ he was.

Months ago, he would have had no problem carrying on without sleep for days, but now… His body was weakened, aching and heavy. Every muscle of his body was screaming in agony, urging him to rest.

But he mustn't.

With a low groan, Hubert pushed himself away from the wall and slowly made his way to the library.

-

The late-night research turned out to be fruitless. Either this unknown sigil was some sort of fusion, or it was derived from some foreign magic, unknown in Fódlan. That, or Hubert missed something - which was possible, with his eyelids becoming heavier and his focus slipping more as time went on. 

He woke up slumped over the library desk. When the sleepy fog finally lifted from his mind, Hubert jolted himself upright - his limbs protested, sore and aching. Even his groan was strained, painfully pulled from his chest. 

Somehow, he managed to stand up. As much as he wanted to keep looking for information on that sigil, he had far more important things to do. Just how long was he here? He was supposed to meet Lady Edelgard in the morning - what if he was late? What time was it?

Dragging his feet, Hubert reached the door to the library. At the same time, they opened and Bernadetta nearly crashed into him.

“Oh, so you're still here! Everyone’s been looking for you!”

Hubert looked at Bernadetta without really seeing her. They were looking for him? Had something happened?

“What…”

Then came another painful cough, so strong that Hubert’s weakened body collapsed under him.

“Oh no! Hubert! So it is bad after all! I’m going to get help!”

“Lin...hardt…” He wasn’t sure how he managed to get the word out between throat-ripping hacks.

“Linhardt? O-ok! Hold on, I’ll find him and we’ll be right back!”

Hubert barely heard her footsteps as she ran - he couldn’t even hear his own thoughts over the wheezing, choked coughs. Once the fit was over, he leaned his head against the door, trying to catch his breath. He only managed a few forced gulps, but he was used to this by now.

He must’ve looked pathetic, slumped on the floor beside the library doors. All of his remaining strength was gone, taken by the illness that ravaged his lungs. He might even die before the illness reached its final stage.

Right, the petals - he should get rid of them before Bernadetta came back with Linhardt. Not that it really mattered - they’d already seen them.

Slowly, Hubert forced his eyes open ( _ when did he close them? _ ) to look at the petals in his hands. 

Ah.

There was no doubt about it.

Yellow sunflower petals in his hand were stained by blood.

-

Together, Linhardt and Bernadetta managed to drag Hubert to his room. They even took off his jacket and shoes before putting him on the bed and awkwardly tucking him in. He tried to make them promise not to tell anyone about his collapse, but Linhardt just shook his head.

“No point in keeping it a secret - it was bound to happen. I’d say you shouldn’t leave this bed for at least a week.”

“Absurd... I can…” Hubert tried to protest and get up, but Linhardt put a hand to his chest and pushed him down again without much problem.

“Don’t make me sit on you to keep you here. Get it through that thick head of yours that burning the candle on both ends will just make it worse.”

“Should I go tell Edelgard?” Bernadetta was standing in the corner, looking between the two men.

“No,” Hubert wheezed from where he was laying on the bed.

“Yes.” Linhardt’s voice drowned out Hubert’s protest.

Bernadetta looked at Hubert again, then she hung her head. “I’m sorry.” With that, she was out of the room.

Hubert grabbed Linhardt’s sleeve and forced the man to look at him. “How  _ dare _ you…” His voice was weak and hoarse, unable to carry his usual intimidating tone.

Linhardt rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, how dare I try to keep you alive. Shame on me.”

He freed his hand from Hubert’s grip. “Not that you make it any easier for me. Just what the hell is happening to you?”

Hubert didn’t answer at first. He kept it a secret for so long. Out of necessity or out of shame - it was hard to tell at this point.

“I…” He started when they heard quick footsteps approaching from the hallway.

The door opened forcefully and Lady Edelgard stepped in. 

“Can you leave us alone, Linhardt?” Her voice was calm, but firm.

Linhardt just shrugged. “Fine by me. You’re far better at dealing with him, anyway.” After that, he was gone, closing the door with a soft click.

Silence fell upon the room. Edelgard looked at Hubert and without a word, she kneeled beside his bed. Hubert jolted in shock - no, no, no, that is not the way the Emperor should behave with her vassal. He wanted to prop himself up, but his arms wobbled and he collapsed on the bed again.

“Your Majesty... Don’t…” 

“Hubert…” She reached for his hand and squeezed it ever-so-lightly.

He looked at her wide-eyed. She tried to keep her composure, but tears were gathering in the corners of her eyes.

“I am so sorry, Hubert. I let you do that to yourself, making you struggle alone...” Her voice was so fragile and broken, each word a dagger piercing Hubert’s heart.

“None of this is your fault, My Lady.” If he were any braver, he would reach his free hand to grasp hers, but alas, all he could do was give her empty words that didn’t make her feel any better.

Edelgard closed her eyes, silent tears finally breaking free and running down her cheeks. “You’re all I have left… Please…”

They stayed silent for a while. Hubert wished he could reassure her that he would be fine, that this illness would pass… But he only hurt her by doing that in the past. It was a sin that now came to haunt him by making him watch his Emperor, crumbled by his bed with tears in her eyes.

_ How long did they stay like this - minutes, hours? _

Finally, Edelgard reluctantly let go of his hand and slowly stood up.

“I must go now. Don’t worry about anything - I and the others shall take care of everything. I’ll also ask Linhardt to check on you later.”

She wiped her face and tried to summon her usual collected demeanor before she had to face the rest of the world again. She gave Hubert another look and her lips twitched minutely.

“Please, rest.”

With that, Edelgard left the room, leaving Hubert alone with his thoughts.

He felt like such a fool. 

He  _ was _ a fool.

A fool who let everyone down.

A fool who will die for his mistakes.

Hubert felt another cough rising in his chest. Despite his whole body aching, he managed to turn to the side before first bloody petals fell from his mouth. He desperately tried to gasp for air, but it was never enough. 

Instinctively, he reached for the petals. With a shaking hand, he grabbed one of them, a golden petal painted with dark red blood. He looked it over carefully, words ringing in his head.

_ Hold the petal, draw the sigil… _

The last remaining logical part of his brain screamed in protest as Hubert forced himself up and, on shaking legs, reached his desk. He slammed his hands on the surface, doing everything in his might to stay upright. The book was still there, exactly where he left it.

The spine of the book was already cracked from use, so it slipped open on the page Hubert needed almost immediately. He paused, realising what he was about to do.

There were just too many unknown variables here. What did it do? Was it safe? What would it entail?

He thought of Lady Edelgard, her tear-streaked face. How Bernadetta literally jumped to help him. How Linhardt used his magic for him, time and time again. How Ferdinand...

Suppressing a cough, Hubert looked to the petal again.

He was going to die anyway. Might as well be a fool to the end.

Slowly he unbuttoned his shirt. The book didn’t specify where the sigil should be drawn, so he figured placing it over his lungs would be most logical. If it was to help with his illness, it should be the closest to the place causing the problem. Trying to keep his hands from shaking, he dipped his finger in the inkstand on his desk and traced the symbol over his chest. It wasn’t especially complicated - he dealt with sigils far more advanced in the past. The angle he was viewing it from was awkward and another cough threatened to spill from his mouth, but he finished to the best of his abilities.

_ Think of the person... _

Why? What would happen to them? What sort of person? His eyes trailed to the petal in his hand and despite himself, his mind filled with visions of orange hair and bright smiles.

_ And cast… _

Hubert closed his eyes and put the hand holding the petal to the sigil on his chest. He allowed magic to course through him, unbidden.

Then he blacked out.

-

When Hubert came to, the first thing he felt was a dull throb of his head.

He opened his eyes with a pained gasp - and froze immediately.

For the last few months, something like this resulted in immediate shortage of breath, usually followed by a coughing fit.

When nothing of that sort happened, Hubert risked taking a deep breath.

He could feel his lungs filling with air like they weren’t able to in forever. He waited for the first signs of pain, that excruciating burn of his insides that was his companion for what felt like years. 

But nothing of that sort came.

Slowly,  _ slowly _ , he exhaled through his mouth, putting a hand to his chest, over the sigil he drew earlier. It smudged under his touch, but that was it.

This accursed illness was gone.

Hubert was  _ free _ .

What came out of his mouth at the realisation was something akin to a startled chortle, shaky and wild and  _ relieved _ . Maybe it was the sudden amount of air in his lungs after so long, but he felt almost lightheaded.

Only then he took to his surroundings - he was laying on the floor in his room, where he collapsed after he finished the spell. He propped himself to a sitting position, his muscles protesting and his skull throbbing again. Hubert reached out behind his head and winced when he touched a bump there. It could’ve been worse, all things considered. Given that just a few hours ago he was quite literally  _ dying _ , a little lump on his head was, all in all, a positive change.

Hubert got up from the floor while taking hungry, deep breaths. Truly, until this whole affair, he took the ability to breath fully for granted. Once he was sure his legs wouldn’t give up under him, he quickly dressed himself, sparing a moment to wipe off the remains of the sigil on his chest. He had to inform Lady Edelgard immediately about his recovery - she was worried about him for far too long. The fact that fretting over him only added to her already heavy shoulders - that was what shamed Hubert the most in all of this. 

Of course, he would also let the others know. He could already picture their reactions. How Bernadetta would sigh with relief, for once happy to see him being scary again. How Linhardt would just roll his eyes and say that at least that’s one thing less to pull him away from his naptime. How Ferdinand…

…

Hm.

Hubert realised he didn’t care how Ferdinand would feel.

-

Lady Edelgard’s face was a mixture of several emotions when he came to see her. Shock, relief, astonishment… She still forced him to visit infirmary to confirm he was fine. 

What was ailing him was truly gone - but the fatigue of his body wasn’t. Manuela ordered him a few days of rest to regain his strength, threatening to tie him up to one of the infirmary beds if he left his room. Reluctantly, he obliged.

The next four days Hubert was nursed back to health by other members of Black Eagle Strike Force. They would take turns keeping him company, bringing him meals or just checking if he’s resting. Well, not everyone - Linhardt informed him that with him stuck in bed, Ferdinand was managing some of Hubert’s work - at least the parts he could oversee. Hubert reacted to that information with indifferent shrug, which made Linhardt raise a questioning brow and wonder aloud if Hubert was really okay.

Once his ‘furlough’ was over and Manuela was satisfied with his condition, Hubert was more than happy to resume his work. Others still eyed him cautiously and kept reminding him to not overdo it. Hubert rolled his eyes each time - was he the only one who remembered they still had a war to win?

He was on the way to his office with all the reports from his spies that accumulated during his absence, when a familiar voice echoed behind him.

“Hubert!”

He considered ignoring the man and simply carrying on to his destination, but Ferdinand was too quick - in a few long strides he was by Hubert’s side, beaming at him.

“Do you need me for something?”

“I am just happy to see you up and about. The monastery isn’t quite the same without you brooding in the shadows.” Ferdinand laughed lightly.

“Is that so.”

“Come now, don’t give me that look. I was rather worried, you know.” Ferdinand tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. “I apologise for not visiting the last few days. Turns out that taking on your workload was quite the undertaking - who would have guessed?”

Ferdinand looked at him again, as if he were expecting some sort of rebuttal. Hubert’s only answer was silence and a raised eyebrow. Ferdinand coughed awkwardly.

“Right. Anyway, the weather is so pleasant today. Why don’t we celebrate your recuperation with some tea and coffee? I managed to get my hands on that Dagdan blend you enjoy.”

“I’ll pass. A lot of work piled up while I was forced to rest.”

“There you go again… You barely recovered from whatever was ailing you. You should take it easy.”

Ferdinand’s tiresome persistence should have annoyed Hubert - he was certain it did in the past.

But right now, he could only think about how this drivel was basically wasting his time.

“Ferdinand, the answer is <No>. Please, just leave me be.”

The cavalier looked as if someone has just slapped him across the face. He stared at Hubert silently, hurt clear in his features. Ferdinand could never hide his disappointment if something upset him. The pout of his lower lip, the way his eyebrows curled together - he looked like a miserable puppy, no matter how trivial the source of his distress was. Like right now, dejected that Hubert didn’t have time to join him for tea.

And Hubert couldn’t care less.

“O-oh, I see… Perhaps some other time…” Ferdinand rubbed the back of his neck and gave him another, hopeful look.

_ Unlikely _ , Hubert thought, but kept it to himself - the conversation was already too long for his liking.

“Perhaps. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.” Hubert was already turning away when he said that.

“Wha-... O-of course! I shall see you… around… Hubert.” Ferdinand’s voice was fainter with each word until it was barely a whisper.

Hubert didn’t spare him a second glance, already gone down the corridor. Ferdinand watched him for a moment, standing alone among the cold stone walls. He cleared his throat once, twice, before he decided he didn’t feel like having tea anymore, so instead he headed to the library.

Ferdinand blamed the tickling constantly rising in his throat on a sudden chill in the air - even though he knew perfectly well it started four days ago.

**Author's Note:**

> sunflower: adoration, loyalty; positivity and strength  
\---  
[TK_DuVeraun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TK_DuVeraun/pseuds/TK_DuVeraun) felt inspired and wrote the sequel, [The General's Secret ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21624133) \- you should read it if that ending was a bit to... ambiguous for your taste.  
\---  
[@gimladen](https://twitter.com/gimladen)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The General's Secret](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21624133) by [TK_DuVeraun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TK_DuVeraun/pseuds/TK_DuVeraun)


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